he British Commissioners, to betray the American
Army, and their Commander-in-Chief, and their cause, _and their Country_,
to Great Britain, for the consideration of ten thousand pounds sterling, a
judicial office, and a tract of land!!!

By a monstrous suppression of truth, and an adroit perversion of the
explanation which General Reed gave to the demands of the American
Commander-in-Chief, respecting his correspondence with the British
Commissioners, his descendants have managed, so far, with tolerably general
success, to thrust into the ranks of the Carrolls and Hancocks, the Putnams
and Warrens of the Revolution, a "traitor," who entered into the struggle
as a matter of speculation; and who, from the date of his appointment, in
1774, as one of the Committee of Correspondence of Philadelphia, down to
the detection of the fact, some years after, that he was engaged in a
correspondence with the British Commissioners, watched with untiring
vigilance, for a proper "opportunity" to betray, for a sufficient "price,"
the cause, and the country, to the tender mercies of George the Third and
his ministry! There is scarcely a Review or Magazine, published in the
country, into which, under the pretext of reviewing some publication, Mr.
William B. Reed has not contrived to obtrude some panegyric of his
grandfather's patriotism--fulsome, even if true, but most monstrous when
considered with reference to its unworthy object.

Not content with chaunting Gen. Reed's praise as an "invisible singer," Mr.
Reed has not hesitated to take the field openly, and in person, and sound
the trumpet in the ears and before the eyes of the astonished lookers on.
Before every literary or collegiate association which he has been called
on, or _finefied_ to have himself invited to address, the eternal burden of
his song has been, "I am the grandson of the great and good patriot,
General Joseph Reed, of revolutionary memory, who replied to the emissaries
of Great Britain, when they offered him his own terms to further the views
of England, 'I am not worth the purchase, but poor as I am, King George is
not rich enough to make it.'" At New York, a few years since--afterwards,
in the Musical Fund Hall, in this city--more recently at Dickinson
College--quite lately at Harvard University, in short, everywhere, and on
all occasions, the self same tune has lulled his audiences into a general
slumber. How any one whose cheek is not formed of brass, can stand u